


A Promise Kept

by kronette



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode: s03e17 Sunday, Episode: s05e02 The Seed, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 00:05:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7552429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set not long after <i>The Seed</i>. References the events of <i>Sunday</i>. Rodney had gotten out of his promise to go fishing with Carson two years ago. The guilt still lingered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Promise Kept

It wasn’t a fully formed idea until Rodney said it aloud, but once the words were voiced, something tight and painful uncoiled inside his chest.

“We’re going fishing tomorrow morning.” 

To say that Carson Beckett was surprised would be an understatement. After seconds of confusion, his face bloomed into the warm, happy smile that made Rodney’s insides do a weird dance—a not wholly unpleasant dance, either. 

“I didn’t know you liked to fish, Rodney,” Carson said amicably as Rodney handed him a tray. 

He didn’t, but he’d be damned if this Carson—if _Carson_ —ever learned the truth. “I’ve been studying the marine life on this planet,” Rodney began as he half-heartedly looked over the food selection in the mess hall. His stomach was in no condition to properly digest so much as water, but he couldn’t let on to Carson. “There are trout-like sea-things that are much, much bigger than Earth trout,” he babbled. “In fact, there are dozens of fish-type things to be hooked and reeled in.” 

Rodney kept his eyes closed for longer than a blink at Carson’s abrupt outburst of laughter. Two years…over two years without hearing his friend’s laugh…

“Aye, surrounded by this huge ocean, it’d be a bloody shame if it was empty.” 

Rodney chanced some butterscotch pudding and followed Carson to a table. It was late at night; only two other tables were occupied so they had a choice of where to sit. Carson settled at a table against a window, even though the window was opaque at this time of night. 

With what he hoped was a fortifying breath, Rodney sat across from him. “It’s not empty,” he blurted out. “The marine biologists have cataloged over one hundred species, and that’s just on this side of the planet.” 

Carson’s smile widened. It looked to Rodney like it should hurt; it stretched his mouth and pushed up his cheeks. “I can’t wait to see some of this indigenous marine life.” His smile diminished a fraction as his expression grew thoughtful. “I wonder what we should use as bait?” 

Rodney’s mouth got away from him again, blurting out the first thing he could think of. “I’ll check with the biologists to find out what they eat.” He could feel his leg begin to twitch nervously at Carson’s furrowed brow. “The fish, not the biologists.” He grew annoyed with Carson and himself for his nervousness. “ _Obviously_ I meant the fish. I don’t care what the fish people eat.” 

Carson’s brow smoothed and it took Rodney a second to realize that his friend had been trying very hard not to laugh. “Ha-ha,” he drolled as he stabbed his spoon into the pudding. “You know what I meant.” 

The spoon didn’t make to Rodney’s mouth. It stopped halfway as Rodney stared at Carson’s hand, stretched out until the fingers reached the cup that Rodney was white-knuckle gripping. 

Carson’s voice was soft he agreed, “Aye, I did.”

=-=-=-=

Rodney stood outside the Infirmary, two fishing poles and a tackle box in his hands. Carson had been unable to make their fishing trip in the early morning. Major Gutierrez’ team had an emergency that had required Carson and his team most of the day. 

Rodney knew that Carson had barely paused to eat; he had seen two of the nurses bring in trays and his friend ate when he could, but had been focused on his patients. 

He had agonized over what to do, but he couldn’t go back on his promise. He’d failed the first Carson; he _would not_ disappoint this one. His second chance. His…hope. He’d learned one very painful, very excruciating lesson when he’d lost Carson: don’t assume there’s a tomorrow. If you want to do something, do it _now_. 

Carson looked exhausted as he trudged toward the doorway, where Rodney was hidden by the half-shadows. He knew when Carson caught sight of him as he stopped short and just…blinked. “Rodney. Are you…what is this?” 

Rodney was glad for the shadows on his face, as he felt his cheeks heat at Carson’s head-to-toe visual inspection. “I know it’s late and you’ve been at it all day. But I don’t want to postpone our trip. I promised you that we’d go fishing. I want to keep my promise to you.” He silently chastised himself; his voice sounded pathetic and weak, surely Carson had noticed. Damn his nervousness. Damn his _need_ to do this; to make up for the stupidity of brushing off his best friend only to have him die on him…

Carson’s already hunched shoulders sagged. “Rodney, I know you mean well, but I’m knackered. I just want to sleep for a few hours.”

A familiar, dreadful sting prickled at Rodney’s eyes. He took an unsteady breath, though it did nothing to calm his racing heart. “Please, Carson,” he rasped, voice cracking on every syllable, raising his gaze to meet Carson’s steadily.

Rodney didn’t know what Carson saw when he looked at him, but his nerves settled as understanding softened Carson’s eyes. The weariness was pushed back with effort, to be replaced by the smallest upturn of his lips. “Where, then?”

It took Rodney a second to be able to answer around the lump in his throat. “East pier. Biologists said schools of fish gather there at night. I brought a bunch of worm-ish things from the mainland for bait. The transport can get us there in three minutes.” 

They walked in companionable silence to the transport and the five or so minutes it took to get to the edge of Atlantis. Carson baited the lures and they both arced their lines into the water before sitting with their feet dangling over the edge.

The sounds of the ocean were louder so late at night, the rolling waves highlighted by the moons’ glows. Neither man spoke; the silence pressed on Rodney’s chest until he found it hard to breathe. 

“You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a best friend, Carson,” he choked out, echoing words he’d said on a similar pier two years ago. “I’m sorry I never told you. I’ve never had a best friend, so I didn’t know how they were supposed to act or what…” 

A cold, yet very much alive hand closed over his and he nearly lost his grip on the fishing pole. “You’re a very good friend, Rodney,” Carson said, pitching his voice louder to be heard over the waves. “I know you came to see me nearly every day I was in stasis.”

“You could hear me?” he squeaked, his mind casting back through his visits to recall if he’d said anything that could incriminate him or worse, drive Carson away. 

Carson’s patient smile quelled his rising panic. “No. Dr. Keller told me after I’d voiced…concerns…. that everyone had forgotten about me. She assured me that wasn’t the case, and as proof, told me about your visits.” The no-longer-cold hand squeezed gently. “I might not have known you were there, but you did it anyway because you cared. I’d call that something a best friend does. But best friends don’t always do this.” 

Rodney barely had time to get out, “Do wh—” before cold, yet very much alive lips pressed against his, warming him instantly. “Oh,” he breathed, his brain functions scattered beyond anything more complex. 

He stared out over the ocean, blinking at the stillness around him and inside him. No more crowded thoughts in his head, no more twisted dancing in his stomach, just a calm peacefulness. 

He leaned to his right and gently nudged Carson with his shoulder and elbow. He heard the quiet chuckle before Carson returned the nudge, then he scooted closer until their thighs were touching. He switched the pole to his other hand, then turned his palm upward, intertwining his fingers with Carson’s. He exhaled slowly as he lowered their joined hands to his thigh, holding on tight. “I was afraid I’d never get the chance to do this,” he admitted, not sure his voice was above a pained whisper. There was an ache in his chest that had started the second he’d seen Carson in that cell and it had only intensified over the past few months. “Just as I get you back, you’re dying, then you’re cured and solving a crisis, and now you’re being sent back to Earth.” He stared morosely at their joined hands, not knowing how to fix this, or if there was even anything he could fix. He was never good with people; this was a mistake. He shouldn’t have said…

A gentle squeeze to his hand accompanied the, “Breathe, Rodney,” whispered in his ear. 

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “It hurts. For two years it’s hurt, but it dulled over time until I could forget about it most days. Now you’re back and it’s worse than ever.”

That same patient tone, the Bedside Voice, asked, “Do you know why it hurts, Rodney?”

His heart palpations began, palm sweaty against Carson’s. He pressed his lips together, obstinately shaking his head again. _Yes_. “No.” 

Carson’s sigh was not as patient as his voice. “Rodney. Look at me.” 

It took effort, but he turned his head, focusing on Carson’s pale face lit by the moons and felt his insides invent a new hyper-dance. “It will hurt so much worse when you leave this time,” he choked out. “I won’t survive it.” 

“Rodney. You are far stronger than you realize, my friend.” With Carson’s declaration, Rodney felt himself being drawn forward, not stopping until their lips were pressed together again. 

This time, he allowed himself to open up, to _feel_ , and he felt wetness on his cheeks as he let go of Carson’s hand to pull him closer. It was awkward and intense and like nothing he’d ever experienced before. He was drowning in the emotions pouring into him, floundering in the wakes and ebbs of his own reciprocating feelings. 

He kept his hand on Carson’s shoulder as they parted. “I’m coming with you,” he insisted in his best stubborn tone, the effect lost when it came out more breathless than demanding. 

“You know you can’t,” Carson’s rebuttal was equally breathless, but no less demanding. “I’ll only be gone a few weeks, a month at the most. The SGC and IOA want to make sure I’m not a threat, then I’ll be back.” 

Rodney tried and failed to keep his panic from rising. “You can’t guarantee that,” he snapped, giving Carson a quick shake. “You can’t know with absolute certainty that they’ll let you come back.” His eyes began to sting and Carson’s face got blurry. “I can’t lose you again, Carson. Not ever again.” 

“You’ll not lose me, Rodney. I’ll fight with them every step of the way if I have to, but I am coming back to you.” Carson’s warm hand cupped the side of his face, thumb tracing over the wet trail down his cheek. “I didn’t survive Michael for two years for the bureaucrats to keep me from what I want.” 

What was left of his defenses were crushed by the crumbling of his emotions, and he pulled Carson in tight, wrapping his arms around the very much alive body. He held on, gripping probably a bit too tight but he didn’t care and Carson didn’t seem to mind. 

The increasing weight of Carson finally registered and he remembered how exhausted his friend had been before he’d dragged him out to the pier. “I can feel how tired you are,” he said, not letting Carson pull away or object. “We’re going back to my quarters and you are sleeping until noon tomorrow.” 

He heard the wicked smile in Carson’s voice as he stated, “Getting me into your bed already, Dr. McKay?” 

Rodney let Carson pull away from him and blushed at the teasing twinkle in his eyes. “It’s…” he began, then took a steadying breath. “I’ve always felt safe, waking up in the Infirmary and seeing your face, knowing you’ve been taking care of me. I’d like you to feel safe, because you probably haven’t felt safe for a long time. And it’d be nice, waking up next to you. Seeing you first thing. Like old times. Only…not.” He realized he was babbling, but this emotional outpouring was a new thing for him. He could tell that Carson was deeply moved by what he was saying. Or, Carson was so exhausted that Rodney would have to carry him back to his quarters. When Carson didn’t say anything, annoyance overrode his ramblings and he spat out, “So is that okay with you or what?” 

Carson’s response was achingly familiar and comforting, with the same patient inflection he used whenever Rodney asked if he could finally be released from the Infirmary. 

“Yes, Rodney.” 

Wordlessly, Rodney kissed him hard and fast, then turned to the task of gathering their things. Holding hands, they walked back to Atlantis, not finding a need to speak. Rodney’s head was crammed with thoughts as they rode the transporter back to the living quarters, yet it wasn’t enough to fully distract him from Carson entering his quarters and hesitating by the chair. 

“I’ll get you something,” he murmured as he passed by, fumbling in his dresser for a t-shirt and shorts. He passed them to Carson without a word, then turned around and changed into his own nighttime clothes. 

He waited until the rustle of clothing stopped before turning around. Seeing Carson start to sway on his feet, Rodney removed his earpiece and placed it on the nightstand next to his own. He ushered Carson into his bed, urging him down and helping him tuck his feet up. Rodney gracelessly climbed onto the other side, dragging out the sheet and whipping it over both of them. 

As he lay on his pillow, looking at the back of Carson’s head, the dance in his stomach took on a new complexity. One night sleeping next to Carson, one morning waking up next to him, and it might be all he ever gets. He couldn’t let that happen. He’d write a letter of recommendation to the IOA. He’d demand that everyone on base do the same. He was cataloging bribes when Carson’s whispered voice interrupted his thoughts.

“You’re thinking too loud, Rodney.” Carson turned onto his back, eyes searching his face for something. It wasn’t long before he apparently found it, and Carson’s voice trembled as he softly ordered, “Come here.” 

Swallowing hard, Rodney shifted down on the bed until Carson’s head could rest on his shoulder. One arm automatically came around Carson’s shoulders; his free hand hesitated, then touched the back of Carson’s head. A quiet sigh disturbed the night; Rodney couldn’t be sure which of them had made it. 

He fell asleep to the rhythm of Carson’s breathing beneath his hands and in the morning, watched as the blue eyes fluttered open, looking up at him in brief confusion. 

“Where am I?” 

Feeling a stupid-happy smile pull at his mouth, Rodney softly declared, “Exactly where you belong, Carson,” before kissing him fully awake. 

The End


End file.
